


The First Moon of Many

by JEAikman



Series: The Musketeers - prompts and one-shots [38]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, werewolf!d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was his first full moon without his father by his side and despite the new family he had made for himself in the Musketeers, he had been feeling more alone than ever before. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>d'Artagnan is a werewolf, and using this to his advantage when he finds one of his friends in need of comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Moon of Many

Being a werewolf proved to be useful in keeping track of his new friends. Especially one night when he found Athos alone, sat outside his apartments, smelling of despair and heartache and betrayal - it smelled old, though, and the man seemed resigned to it. He would have to prod carefully if he wanted to find the cause of it.

He whined softly in sympathy, and the man's head darted up to stare in horror at the animal before him. It was fear that d'Artagnan smelled now - then acceptance. A jolt ran through him when he realised what that meant - _Athos yearned for death_. That was something that he could not allow. So he sidled closer and brushed up against him, placing his head on the man's lap and closing his eyes, yawning as he did so.

 

"What...?" Athos yelped, confused at this development, understandably, d'Artagnan supposed, since there was an adolescent wolf pressing against his side, warm fur oddly soothing as it whined sympathetically with his pain. That would seem odd to anyone not afflicted with lycanthropy. But d'Artagnan did not react to the surprise of his comrade, merely pressed closer to him, giving him warmth and comfort that is desperately needed, yet the man refused to reach out to his human friends for.

"Where did you come from?" He asked, half in confusion, half in wonder. D'Artagnan just licked the man's hand and nudged him until he agreed to move his legs, one after the other and walk home, for he decides that Athos is his responsibility tonight, since Aramis and Porthos are nowhere in sight to keep an eye on their melancholy  drunkard. And in all honesty, this is not a place he was expecting to find any of his Musketeers (and wasn't that odd, knowing that they were _his_ , despite their not being wolves - whenever he caught their scents, his mind went _pack pack pack home safe brothers)_ , which was why he had chosen it to run through on this full moon in the first place.

 

It was his first full moon without his father by his side and despite the new family he had made for himself in the Musketeers, he had been feeling more alone than ever before. But he had held in his grieving howl. But now that he and Athos were walking side by side, and he waited outside Athos' door until the man had got his keys and flopped down, and had even seemed to be inviting him in - he could stay a wolf till morning, he supposed - he had no duties tomorrow - he felt a little lighter somehow.

 

At least Constance wouldn't have to complain about him chewing the furniture again. He was still incredibly embarrassed about that whole incident - it hadn't even been a full moon, but he'd been so stressed that it had forced the change. He was beyond grateful that she would deign to take him in, even knowing what he was. He tilted his head in the direction of the Bonacieux residence and he sighed. He was falling for her, and falling fast. He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that his kind mated once, for life. They could have flings, of course, but only one person could ever make their heart sing. No one who was not a wolf knew that, thought, and to tell her would only break her heart as well as his. Athos followed his gaze and frowned.

 

"Well, strange thing, do you want to come in? There's nothing out there but the cold." Athos grumbled, and the wolf resisted rolling his eyes at his friend. All the same though, he walked in and let Athos close the door behind him, before shaking, so that all the water lodged in his fur was shaken free and dripped onto the floor. Athos smirked wryly.

"You are an odd thing, aren't you? Are you someone's escaped pet? Some nobleman's tamed wild thing?" At the very thought of it, the lad's hackles rose. He bared his teeth and growled low in his throat. Athos raised his hands in surrender. "I insulted you, did I?" he asked, something like amusement flickered in his gaze. Sighing, Athos shook his head in wonder. "Just what am I doing?" He asked himself aloud. "You could probably tear my throat out whilst I sleep." D'Artagnan shook his head furiously, and he must, somehow, have looked mortified, because Athos stared at him. The stare was as heavy as any pack leader that he had ever met, so instinctively he flopped onto his belly and bared his throat to the man in submission, trying to get it into his friend's head that _I am not a threat._

Athos looked thoroughly bemused by his actions, but seemed to accept his submission, so he gathered himself back up and licked his hands, wanting him to know that he'd be there for him.

"You're not going to leave me alone so I can wallow in peace, are you?" d'Artagnan whined quietly as Athos scratched between his ears. His mother used to do that, and it felt so nice. It had always made him relax, and sleepy, ever so sleepy.

 

The next morning he woke curled up on Athos' bed. He went to the door and scratched it, and the older Musketeer, who had quite honestly gotten the best night's sleep he had ever had since he had his wife hanged for his brother's murder had woken up decidedly less grumpy than usual. D'Artagnan barked impatiently.

"You're just like a puppy, do you know that?" Athos complained, but there was only a fond exasperation behind it. D'Artagnan huffed and puffed himself up to his full height. He might not be the largest of weres, but he sure as day was no _puppy_. That was just insulting. He scratched the door again.

"Alright, alright, you impatient mutt, I'll open the door." His half smile was fond, and he smelled of old love and sadness. "As strange as this sounds, you remind me of my brother." D'Artagnan turned his head and tilted it curiously. "All impatience and exuberance - actually, forget that, you remind me more of d'Artagnan. I worry about him, you know. Every time he's in the field with us. I worry about what stupid stunt he's going to pull next that will get him killed. And it's not fair on him, I know, because he has potential, he has a _lot_ of potential. But there we are. Maybe he reminds me of Thomas as well." And if that wasn't a revelation and a half, then he wasn't a werewolf. But he was, and he had no idea what to do with the information, so he just logged it away in the back of his mind and ran as fast as his legs could carry him back to the Bonacieux household. He could deal with knowing that Athos had a brother, and worry about knowing that he had a reason for his over-protectiveness in the field another day. Right now he just wanted to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my "WIP Musketeer one-shots" folder for months, so I thought I'd edit it a little and post it here. It was originally meant to be the start of something much larger, but it never really came to anything. Still, I might continue in this universe in future one-shots if anyone has any prompts for it.


End file.
